In a part of a world where humans cannot tread, a grand white castle rose high above its surroundings, and in its shadow was the garden where Gloom lived.

Gloom was the younger daughter of Sorrow, the most powerful prince of all the Ills, but unlike her father, whose golden blond curls made all those who regretted him love him, Gloom was not beautiful. Her ash-coloured hair fell in ungainly locks and obscured her face, and the only remarkable thing about her grey eyes was that they ever stopped crying.

Gloom despaired. She was not beautiful like her father, but her sister Misery was. Misery's mother was Agony, and Gloom was certain she felt Agony's presence in her daily life at all times. Agony was beautiful like her daughter – both had long red hair that reminded everyone of what it felt like to be burnt by their closeness, and both had light blue eyes that tricked the weakest minds into thinking they were desirable. So many people received Misery and Agony into their lives gladly; their beauty made it exquisite, and their suffering made it perfect.

Gloom's mother was Grief. Frail and reclusive and pale and wispy, Grief never set foot outside of the castle walls, but her voice was heard in the cries of all those who suffered terrible sadness and her tears formed the crystal staircase that led from the castle into the garden. The combination of grief and sorrow had brought Gloom into the world, and without meaning to she had spread through everything and everyone – she could not contain her effect, nor could anyone stop it. After the south side of the castle began to turn grey, her father met her in the garden with a grim edict.

‘Here you must remain,’ her father had told her as he brushed the grey and decay off of his hands that had come from merely speaking to her. ‘Do not leave the garden until you can contain yourself.’ Sorrow had ascended the crystal staircase without looking behind while his daughter descended into an even greater melancholy.

Gloom frowned and looked around at the flowers that withered from her gaze. ‘Well,’ she said, sitting down on a rock that seemed even colder when she touched it. ‘That sucks,’ she declared and crossed her arms; a nearby rose died in agreement.

From then on it was there that Gloom spent all of her days, inadvertently killing all of the things she had once gone there to see. As a child she had longed to wear roses in her hair like sister did, but as soon as Gloom came near them their petals lost their colour and they eventually died; she had tried to arrange the remaining stems, but the thorns became stuck in her hair, and she cried in frustration when she tried to remove them.

Gloom spread throughout the garden, and everything became dead or dying. Her sister never had that problem; she reserved herself only for the misery she brought onto others, and she could control how far her gifts went. Gloom had tried to control herself, too, but every time she held herself back she had no idea where her influence should go. Eventually all she had kept back came out at once: the kingdoms cried and the castles greyed, and the gloom in the world did not cease.


*

In another part of the kingdom, three princes were also having a hard time.

‘It is difficult,’ said Treachery, the coldest and most unkind prince of the trio, to his counterpart, ‘for me to enjoy my work when Joy and Forgiveness are working together to prevent me from achieving anything!’

‘Forgiveness loves Joy, you know,’ said Villainy, the most handsome and most cruel prince of the trio, in an off-hand manner.

‘I know,’ said Treachery, a look of disgust on his face. ‘I could vomit,’ he declared. ‘It’s so sickening.’

Jealousy, the most cunning and most deceptive prince of the trio, who had been quietly doing his job without the others noticing, looked over to the princes with concern on his face. It was a struggle, for it was difficult for him to feel real concern when Villainy looked so pretty and Treachery was just so fantastically treacherous, but he managed it. ‘We could get them,’ he suggested quietly.

‘Pardon?’ said Treachery with a stern voice, though he heard what Jealousy had said.

‘Pardon?’ echoed Villainy, who had also heard, but required more information.

Jealousy walked towards where the others were sitting and re-stated his idea: ‘We can teach those two a lesson.’

Treachery and Villainy exchanged an unreadable look, and for a moment Jealousy narrowed his eyes, wondering what exactly it was the two were passing onto each other.

‘Well,’ said Villainy slowly, considering the possibility with a growing smile as Jealousy sat on the lounge with him and then lay back in his arms, ‘we cannot harm Forgiveness,’ he said, placing his arms around Jealousy and his mouth close to Jealousy’s ear. ‘Mercy would never let us be if we hurt him.’

Treachery grumbled; he knew it was true. He knew that Mercy, who could be both cruel and kind, would be very cruel indeed if one of his favourites was dispatched.

‘But Joy …’ said Jealousy. Away from the other princes he would silently brood over Joy. Joy was so lovely; he was so kind and such a pleasure to be around. He welcomed everyone yet said no to all who would have him; Joy could not tarnish himself with the close company of others.

The three princes considered the subject, a smile creeping onto Treachery’s face within moments.

‘Where is he?’ demanded Treachery, and Villainy discarded Jealousy to stand at and look through the telescope at the window. ‘Where is Joy?’

‘He walks within the gardens of Sorrow,’ replied Villainy, his excitement growing at the thought of doing something incredible nasty.

‘We cannot just approach him like this,’ said Treachery, and the smile on Villainy’s face faltered. ‘Nothing must be traced to us until after it is done.’

Villainy struck out at the telescope, slapping it hard so that it made a few rotations before steadying. He leant down and looked again.

Villainy grinned. ‘It’s perfect,’ he promised, placing a hand on Jealousy’s shoulder as he joined him by the window. Jealousy smiled.

‘Perfect,’ he agreed.

Finally it was Treachery’s turn to bend down and look, and he felt a slight thrill of anticipation as he saw the red-haired princess at the end of the telescope.

‘Perfect.’

*

‘Hello.’

Gloom pulled back, an unfamiliar voice in her garden causing her to hide behind a dying tree. She stood on the tips of her toes and watched the curious young man who walked to the centre of her garden, as though nothing was happening to him, and as though there was no gloom in his life at all.

‘Hello,’ he said again, still friendly and still unchanged. He didn’t seem gloomy at all.

Gloom was not sure this wasn’t a trick, but it had been so long since she had spoken to anyone – she had to reply. ‘Hello,’ she said stiffly, remaining in her hiding position.

‘Hello,’ he said for a third time, and again Gloom stood on the tips of her toes. He was smiling. It was a strange sight for her to behold – a person who not only did not have the decay of gloom creeping onto him, but who seemed calm and serene and happy. She shook her head, as though he were some sort of mirage, and then looked again. He was still smiling.

‘Who are you?’ she called.

He remained smiling. ‘I’m Joy.’

Gloom almost fell over. She had never met one of the "other princes" – her father would often say one of the other princes would destroy them all. She took the warning to heart.

‘Go away,’ she hissed.

‘I will if you want me to,’ he assured her. ‘I was just looking for my arrow – it came farther than I meant it to,’ he confessed. ‘I suppose I’ll have to learn to keep things under control.’

Gloom heard these words and her heart leapt with a feeling she had never felt before. Her gaze shot quickly around the garden for the arrow that shouldn’t have been there, something that didn’t belong and wasn’t tainted with gloom.

Joy was looking, too – he had a blissfully unaware expression on his face, as though he often encountered dead gardens with strange girls hiding behind trees in them. Gloom wondered if all of the other princes were as beautiful as Joy was – he reminded her of her father, but her father never really seemed happy. He only ever seemed pleased with himself.

‘Why are you firing arrows?’ she asked (though she quickly looked away when he met her gaze – her father had told her she would turn to stone if one of the other princes looked at her eyes too long).

‘I was invited,’ he answered. Gloom gasped – Joy had touched a dead rose and it had come back to life. ‘Here,’ he said, approaching her with the rose.

Gloom winced, prepared to feel the pain of being turned to stone.

‘It’s all right,’ he said warmly, and stretched out his hand with the rose.

She made certain not to meet his gaze and stretched out her hand to take the live rose – it struggled to remain red in their combined clasp, and when he let go of it completely it turned grey and died. Gloom dropped the flower and looked away.

‘I never really liked red, anyway,’ declared Joy, retrieving the rose from the ground. Its colour returned, but not for much longer – Joy picked the petals off and threw them into the air, a red light like sunset settling over the garden.

Gloom was so impressed. She wanted to ask him how he did things like that, but she didn’t want him to know how terrible she was at using her own powers. She could change the colour of the sky, but she could only make it grey.

Resuming their search for the missing arrow, Gloom remembered his answer from before. ‘Who invited you?’ she asked.

Joy shrugged. ‘You know, I’m not really sure. I was told that I would find my mark here,’ he said and then gave a tinkling little laugh. ‘Maybe I have and it lies wherever my arrow is now?’

Gloom shook her head; no one belonged there except her. ‘No, I don’t think.’

Joy didn’t say anything to that - he just smiled and continued looking. Joy seemed completely uninfluenced by Gloom – nothing she did or said darkened his mood.

After a time searching, Joy took off his bow and sat down in the grass by the once clear but now murky pond; he was panting slightly.

‘Are you all right?’ Gloom called, surprised that anyone could be anything but cold in the garden.

‘Yes,’ he responded, nodding and wiping his brow. ‘It’s just this Malady air, you know – completely unused to it. Does my head in a bit.’

‘Oh …’ How odd, Gloom thought, pausing and staring for a second. It took her another moment to realise he was staring back with an amused grin on his face; she blushed – was there actual colour in her face now? - and looked away. ‘I’ll keep looking.’

Gloom did keep looking, even though she felt he had probably lost his arrow elsewhere and the search was pointless. Would they not have found it by now if it were there? The garden was quite large, but since most of the plants in it were dead, there really weren’t too many places an arrow could hi-

‘I found it!’ Gloom cried, much to her own surprise; she had never been more excited about something in her whole life. She was stunned and amazed by this – she never knew such a feeling could exist.

Joy’s face lit up with pleasure. ‘Hurrah,’ he said as she handed it to him. ‘Thank you.’

Gloom stole a glance at him before she looked away from his eyes. ‘You’re welcome.’

Joy was picking up his bow. ‘Can you …’ began Gloom, but she stopped herself – he must have been waiting for an excuse to leave.

‘You want me to show you?’ he asked, holding out his bow. ‘Sure, here,’ and he handed it to her.

Feeling slightly nervous as he put his arms around her and guided them into place, Gloom tried her best; she was no good at it, though. Her arrow seemed to limp through the air and never came close to hitting anything.

‘It's all right,’ Joy assured her, smiling pleasantly as he collected Gloom's stray arrow. ‘You will find your mark,’ he promised.

Gloom smiled, and how wonderful the feeling was.

*

From high up in the castle, Misery shrieked with outrage.

She was incensed by the happy state she saw her sister in. Joy was the only one of his kind who could stand being within the realm of Malady for extended periods of time, and one of the first things he had done while there was unforgivable: he had said no to Misery.

Now the red hair that attracted her suitors seemed everywhere she didn’t want it to be, and she tore at it in anger and frustration, crying when she finally pulled a thick lock out. Misery shrieked again, and Villainy, Treachery, and Jealousy appeared at once.

"Well-" started Treachery.

"Well-" said Jealousy.

"Well," said Villainy with emphasis, grinning at Misery in the unhappiness she found herself in.

Misery made a frustrated noise and collapsed on a divan, burying her face in the armrest. ‘Go away,’ her muffled voice said.

‘Now-’

‘Now-’

‘Now,’ said Villainy with a concerned half-sigh as the other princes flopped down on chairs and couches nearby. ‘Is something wrong?’ he asked, sitting behind her.

‘I don’t need your help,’ Misery hissed before hiding her face away again.

‘Of course n-’

‘Of course not.’

‘Of course not,’ purred Villainy, leaning down close so that he was practically on top of her. ‘But what is the matter?’ he whispered. ‘Tell me,’ he said as she turned her face slightly so that they made eye-contact. ‘You’ll feel better,’ he promised.

‘That … witch,’ said Misery, thinking of the mortals and non-mortals who were or called themselves that – they didn’t know the real power of magic. They could barely do anything she could. Comparing Gloom to such lowly figures was as good as-

‘Hm?’ interrupted Treachery.

‘Hm?’ said Jealousy with a little laugh.

‘Hm?’ Villainy said into her ear, though he secretly liked witches quite a lot and thought her remark sounded stupid.

‘Gloom,’ said Misery quickly. ‘Gloom, that horrible sister of mine. Look what she’s doing!’

Misery threw a crystal ball into the air and the princes turned their gaze to it as it expanded and showed the usually unhappy Gloom smiling.

‘Oh, how could-’

‘- how could-’

‘-how could she?’ finished Villainy for them all. ‘It’s vile.’

‘It really is,’ Misery agreed in a huff, and the princes nodded with false sincerity. Misery didn’t even notice; she was so angered by her sister that she forgot these three princes were terrible fiends.

Seeing that Misery preferred to brood about it in silence, Jealousy took the initiative to make certain she did no such thing.

‘She looks much prettier with him,’ he remarked.

‘Indeed,’ agreed Treachery.

‘Hm,’ murmured Villainy, reminding Misery that he was still close by when he leant down towards her. He could feel her tensing up.

Jealousy’s eyes narrowed. ‘Perhaps she would one day make a queen of Malady?’

Treachery didn’t even bother to hide his expression as Misery shot up from the divan; she was too incensed to notice, anyway. How could anyone be considered a potential queen except her? Gloom was a little nothing, confined to a nothing little garden – she wasn’t fit to shine Misery’s shoes.

"How can I make them pay?" demanded Misery, her face still hot with anger, and her fingers clutching at the hair she had pulled out before.

"Easy-"

"Easy-"

"Easy," purred Villainy. "Take this," he said, reaching into his robes and returning with an arrow. "It will find its mark."

Misery held the golden arrow in her hand; it gleamed with intent and she felt herself winning.

*

Much to Gloom’s surprise, Joy returned the next day. He had brought her a present: her very own bow. Gloom had received gifts before, but none that were as genuine as this one. She prized it above all of her possessions.

‘Keep practicing,’ Joy encouraged her. ‘You’ll get better.’

Gloom wasn’t certain about that, but his confidence in her was a powerful feeling.

The day after that he had another present for her, and she found it waiting in the garden before he arrived: a beautiful golden arrow. It looked like it could hit anything.

She decided to start practicing before he came – perhaps she would be able to at least hit something with this new arrow, that way he would know she had really been trying and appreciated his gifts.

The golden arrow seemed lighter than the silver arrows Joy used, and something about it didn’t seem quite right, but she didn’t know of any real difference, and she was certain he wouldn’t give her something that wouldn’t help her.

Feeling steady with the bow for the first time ever, she took aim and fired.

"I’ve hit something!" cried Gloom, experiencing a strange feeling that she would later identify as joy, however briefly she felt it.

All was not well – Gloom knew it as the sky began to turn black. She searched frantically for her arrow and let out a pained gasp when she saw it.

There, highlighted against the growing dark, was the arrow – it had pierced Joy, and his blood spilled in the garden of Sorrow.

Gloom watched in disbelief as darkness fell upon Joy; she had seen this happen before, when her cousin Malaise had tried to tempt Fate and was punished terribly for his efforts. Gloom felt her body turn cold as Joy's pale blond curls turned to ash, and his skin was white and freed of its colour. When he opened his eyes and looked at her, she no longer saw what lit up the world – all she saw was hate and disgust.

‘Who are you?’ Gloom asked in a whisper. ‘What have you become?’

‘Don’t you know me?’ he said, the unmistakeable signs of anger in his voice.

At this time he removed the arrow from his chest and handed it to her – amidst the blood was a strand of long red hair. Gloom was filled with horror as she looked up to the windows of the castle. Misery ... How could her sister do this? How could she-

‘But …’ Gloom tried to speak; she didn’t know what to say.

‘I am Betrayal,’ he said, glaring at her. ‘Look what you’ve done to me.’

‘No!’ she said, shaking her head furiously. ‘This isn’t my- I didn’t do it- I didn’t know. Please.’

He started speaking again, this time with a calmer voice. ‘Your punishment-’

‘Punishment?’ said Gloom, her eyes wide with alarm. ‘But it was an accident!’

Betrayal seemed perplexed by this reaction. ‘You have killed me,’ he said. ‘Did you expect nothing to come of it?’

‘But you’re not dead,’ she said, desperately grasping at arguments. ‘It’s not my fault – I never would have harmed you. I didn’t mean for this-’

‘You were always much better,’ he interrupted her, peering idly around as he experienced the world for the first time in his new incarnation, ‘at what you did than you thought. Before Joy died,’ he said slowly, picking a flower from nearby and watching as it died almost instantly, ‘he felt your touch – he had no idea something so cold and lonely existed. You hid that part of yourself well.’

Tears filled Gloom’s eyes. She was not used to this – not used to how she made others feel. Her father, her sister, everyone she knew … they didn’t feel gloom – they had their own sorrow …

‘And now your punishment,’ Betrayal said again.

Gloom’s eyes fluttered towards him. At first she didn’t realise what was going on; a blinding light had entered the garden and for a moment she couldn’t see anything but white.

‘No …’ she murmured and fell to her knees, a tingling sensation travelling down her back as she recognised the figure emerging from the light: it was Justice.

‘Please, please,’ she begged, but Mercy did not appear. No one did – no one came to help her.

Gloom had seen Justice only once before, when she was very young and had little idea what his presence meant; her father said that to many people he seemed invisible or not really there. He was one of very few dual princes; Justice was his own twin – for part of the time he was also Injustice.

‘Gloom.’

‘Oh,’ she said, crying and not able to look up at him. ‘Please,’ she said again. ‘Please, I’m afraid. I don’t know- I ...’

Gloom felt her voice disappear and everything began to feel far away except for Justice’s voice and Betrayal’s hollow stare.

In the distance Misery smiled, feeling safe and warm in the despair she had caused, and doubly so because it had happened to her sister and she had meant for it to. At the same time the three princes returned to their castle and toasted their victory – no matter who anyone was, Jealousy was a powerful motivator.

From his balcony in the castle Sorrow could see what was happening to his younger daughter; he wouldn’t have wished something like that upon his worst enemy. Sorrow watched as Gloom became unrecognisable to him, and his heart sped up when he heard a wail of sadness come from Grief’s rooms.

Sorrow pitied his daughter, and as her transformation was completed, he sent her the kind of gift that only the Ills would appreciate: he sent her dismay over what had happened.

A sorrowful cry rose up from Gloom and engulfed the garden around her. Neither Justice nor Betrayal were moved by the sound, and a final tear escaped from Gloom’s eyes before she left that place forever.

*

It was not until Gloom passed by the now clear pond that she realised what she had become: Hope.

She could no longer regret anything, or feel sorrow, or feel gloom, and so she left the garden with a content smile on her face. Her days as Gloom were an unbelievable memory that quickly faded away as a carpet of flowers followed her feet where she went.